


Let the Bullet Go Back into the Barrel

by hoist



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Sexual References, Sombra strikes me as the type to have a secret diary, Violence References, all Widowmaker-related warnings apply I guess, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 22:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16072703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoist/pseuds/hoist
Summary: Sombra's never written a love letter before. She'll never send one, either.





	Let the Bullet Go Back into the Barrel

 

There’s pieces that don’t fit, now. Your eyes go soft at certain places when you talk. They never have before. You relax in the shoulders. Your gait makes sense. Two nights ago your lips curled at the corner when I kissed you in the bath, but it wasn’t a shrugging off. It wasn’t even a twitch. It was wry and amused and _mi amor,_ never have I known you, not ever, to laugh.

 

Your lungs pull deeper when you sleep. Your skin runs warmer when we fuck.

 

These aren’t drastic, the changes, you know? No. Just little slivers at a time. And it’s not as though I dislike them. Shit. You’ve heard all my dumbass necro jokes by now, eh. I’m glad for them, these small things. Little signs of the bullshitsloughing off. I know what these things mean. For you.

 

I know what they mean, for you.

 

When I finally turned torch to the motherfuckers and all their tethers on you, _carino,_ the biometric bugs, the tracking devices, the face recognition and fingerprints, PET scans, catscans, retinal scans, psych reports -- _ay_ , _chica,_ they've all forgot your fucking shoe size -- I did the same for my own database, you know. I want nothing on you. Even if just for knowing. And you know how I like that, eh? All my info? But if wiping it didn’t mean that your brain would hemorrhage into glue or your heart would pop like a fucking gravy balloon then I wanted none of it, _querida,_ and wiped every fucking thing. I wanted none of it on you. And I still don’t, honest. I just. I'm not ready for something else to take its place.

 

I wasn’t ready all along, you know. When I sold the motherfuckers on the idea, I promise you, I didn’t think they would take it. But I did and they did and you were and then you weren’t, and now maybe you will be again soon.

 

Fuck. Haha! Serves me right! Doesn’t it? Ahhhh. It’s too perfect. Feels like I’m gutshot back in Salvador. Haha. You weren’t there that time. On the other side of the map, for some other chicken chase. Maybe Brussels. I almost went septic in that safehouse, you know. You run your hand along the splash of scar tissue in my waist when you scrape your mouth along me but you’ve never asked, not with words. Maybe your eyes will. Sometime soon. Do you get more curious by the day, _hermosa?_

 

~~I see them go soft in certain places.~~

 

The time may come when you are no longer the woman I've fallen in love with. When we put you back together as one I helped to ruin. One day you may wake up next to me, with morning aiming in at us both, and your skin on my skin and my breath on your lips and you feel nothing but daggering, acid contempt. I won't blame you. My God. Who could? Who could blame you. And if you ruin me too? Haha! God.I suppose that’s only fair. 

 

But even knowing that. Even knowing how this one ends. I cannot go. I cannot leave you like this, _mi amor_.

 

Breathe as deep as you like. Next I’ll be watching you for dreams.


End file.
